


Alexander, Please

by superbcandyangel



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-18 14:20:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17582504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superbcandyangel/pseuds/superbcandyangel
Summary: Drabbles on the titular phraseFirst person — Burr narratingThird person — following Laurens





	1. Chapter 1

I could feel the energy buzzing from the crowd as Hamilton further challenged the frantic young man. The tension was palpable and they clamored to get a better look at the action unfolding. Stuck somewhere between admiration and anxiety, I went to work at pushing through the mass of bodies.

By the time I managed to get anywhere near the stage, he had been knocked to the ground, scrambling, Hamilton an unusually imposing presence above him. It was almost endearing that he got to feel tall. His usual overcompensation seemed to overflow, now, drowning poor Samuel Seabury.

Talking over others seemed to be Hamilton's specialty, as I was beginning to realize. I slipped past another person, feeling my fear turn to frustration as he began to wax poetic in his own right. The tightness in my chest soured and I resolved to stop this.

"Fucking–" I muttered to myself, before cutting him off– "Alexander, please!"

I glanced behind him to see a British officer preparing to boot him from the stage, and that wholly took precedent over his witty retort. Either Hamilton didn't register the cautionary look in my eyes or he was incapable of registering caution at all — a deeply troubling and arguably demonstrable possibility — because he was promptly shoved off of his stolen platform and onto the ground. I offered a hand to help him up and winced slightly at the booming voice replacing his own. I didn't miss his glare or the forceful way he brushed himself off. He'd riled himself up, I decided. Nothing personal.


	2. Chapter 2

"Shit, ah–" Laurens gasped, his back arching as Hamilton took him deeper– "Alexander, please."

He hummed and pulled off of John's cock. "Are you going to come, darling?"

Laurens nodded fervently. He let out a breathy moan when Hamilton wrapped his lips around him again, and his knuckles flushed white as he grasped at the sheets beneath him. His head tipped back against the pillows in sheer rapture.

To glance up at Laurens's face was the best, most terrible decision Alexander had made that day, with healthy competition. His eyes wrenched shut, mouth falling open in what might have been a silent scream as his climax flooded over Hamilton's tongue. He swallowed it down and retreated from his body.

John panted heavily. His cheeks flushed rose beneath the freckles spattered across his face, and he giggled softly as Alexander lay down beside him with a smile.

"Do you know how pretty you are like this?" He murmured, nosing his way into the crook of Laurens's neck. "How dearly I adore you?"

He snaked his arms around his waist and his grin widened. "Just kiss me, Alexander. God knows I hear plenty of sweet nothings in your letters."

"Is that so?" Alex laughed. He was silenced as one kiss became several more, until he couldn't quite distinguish between them. He didn't really feel the need to make the distinction.


	3. Chapter 3

The bark scratched at his back through his shirt, just sharp enough to be uncomfortable, but Laurens seemed so deeply at peace in his lap that he didn't dare stir him. Not quite asleep, perhaps, but all too easily roused from this state. He found he didn't want to rouse him. Truly calm moments were few and far between these days.

He began to idly stroke Laurens's hair, tucking stray bits behind his ear. A bird's song warbled from somewhere high above them, nestled in the branches. He traced his thumb across the concave of his cheek and smiled to himself. John's chest rose and fell with breath, and he drew closer, leaning into Hamilton's touch. A grin split across his face, suddenly, and he stretched further across his lap. He rolled onto his back, eyes still closed.

The way the sun played across John's face stole Hamilton's breath from his throat, and his hand froze against its side. Shining, golden brown eyes fluttered open with a certain fondness, and he was struck by the memory of their first night together. A little more than tipsy, hardly as drunk as Mulligan or Lafayette ever were, but enough to numb the fears, the overthinking that always plagued them. They were left to their own devices as their friends flirted and quarreled, and Laurens took him to the side. Hamilton had spent most of that conversation admiring his freckles. They appeared to glitter across his face in the pale moonlight. The sun, now, was taking its turn in that pursuit.

"You're thinking again," Laurens chuckled. "Stop that."

He laughed with him. "Have you ever known me to stop?"

"No, but I've known you, and I think that might've gotten you pretty close."

Though he grinned at the comment, his hand flew to his hair. One might have thought he was almost bashful. John knew him better than that. He paused, still grinning. "You know I'm only teasing you, Alexander. Deeply enamored with your mind, as ever."

Hamilton's brow knit together. "People might be missing us."

"Then keep them waiting. Just a little longer."

Laurens had sat up fully now, no longer sprawled across him, but more obviously attentive. He was maintaining sober eye contact, and raised a hand to cup Hamilton's jaw.

"Alexander," he said softly, cutting through the mulling thoughts behind his eyes, "Please."

He could've counted the freckles on Laurens's face, and he might've tried if he hadn't suddenly become very busy kissing him. His lips, plump and soft, were rough around the inner edge. He always bit them when he worried. It was a bittersweet thought.

"Alright," he found himself saying, "Alright, we can stay as long as you'd like."


	4. Chapter 4

The bullet appeared to travel in slow motion as the instant of fire dragged on for an eternity. Deep, screaming terror swirled in my gut as I registered Hamilton pointing his gun toward the sky. My own weapon dropped to the ground alongside my stomach as I desperately tried to somehow stop its path. Rewind. Something.

It was too late.

"Alexander!" I gasped, and rushed to fall on my knees before his bloodied body. My fault. I'd shot him. His blood was on my hands. "I didn't mean to– dear god, no, Alexander, please!"

Tears were welling in my eyes, burning deep regret. Please, please be okay. He can't die. He could never seem to die. He looked so fragile before me now. So small. Even with his stature, he'd never seemed so small to me before. He looked pale and sickly in that moment. I did that. I'd made him this way.

This wasn't what I'd wanted. I wanted to be greater than this. Than him. I wanted to prove myself, that I was worthy. But not like this.

Strong arms were dragging me to my feet, though I struggled to stay put. I couldn't leave him. He couldn't leave. I couldn't be alone. But William was turning me forcibly from the scene, and as the tears rolled over my face I suddenly couldn't bear to fight any longer. That wasn't my place now. I'd forfeited my right to kneel beside him when I'd shot him through the heart. I relented, still sobbing, to be led away. 

It was out of my hands. My hands, stained red with the blood of my longtime enemy. Rival. Occasional friend. These same hands that shook as I scrubbed the tear tracks from my cheeks. I clenched my fists and prepared to face the world. To face what I'd done.


	5. Chapter 5

It's strange, how grief unites people.

I'd been drained of all anger I'd held toward him the moment I pulled the trigger. All of it, everything had been replaced. By terror. By regret. By shame. In that moment, all his sins shrunk before me. Thirty years of disagreements dissolved to nothing. Dust in the wind.

The bitter sting of alcohol washed down my throat and I tensed my hands over my face. The gravity of what I'd done was hitting me in waves. I desperately wanted to melt into the floor.

\--

Laurens's view of the South Carolina sky was blurred by fever and a bubbling pain in his right side. Starlight streaked across an impossibly black backdrop as the gunshots faded to a gentle ringing. The air filled with the smell of crushed grass and gunpowder and he was finding it hard not to let it lull him to rest. He pressed firmly to the fresh wound and tears sparked in his eyes at the sharp pain.

His fingers slick with blood, he bit hard into his lip in a vain effort to remain conscious. He seemed to be slipping in and out of gravity's pull, between floating and sinking. As his eyes fluttered closed, he whispered to himself a litany.

\--

"Alexander, please–"

\--

"Alexander, please don't forget me."

\--

"–if you're listening–"

\--

"Don't forget about us."

\--

"–just know your story will live on."


End file.
